Contentment
by Punzie the Platypus
Summary: Darcy and Lizzie have a grand number of guests at Pemberley one Christmas; they await eagerly for their last son to arrive, but first easily pass the time by taking a walk around the grounds with their nine grandchildren.


_**Soli Deo gloria**_

 **DISCLAIMER: I do NOT own Pride and Prejudice. This is a story for a great aunt of mine for Christmas. She requested Darcy/Lizzie in later years (though my story-writing history doesn't really reflect it, Darcy/Lizzie is one of my favorite couples EVER).**

In all the years of events and occasions celebrated in the halls of Pemberley, never had so many related guests been assembled as at one family Christmas during the Victorian era.

Snow fell down in heavy showers over the vast estate of Pemberley; this constant slew of snowflakes did nothing, however, to impede the caravan of carriages and coaches slowly creeping north up the carved lane. Running the perimeter of the property, this road was well-marked along the snowdrifts. Banks of shoveled snow became its banks as the road quickly became the most well-traversed in town. It curved around the front park and brought the guests straight to the huge front of the mansion. Snow blew in the front doors as they were frequently opened by the maids flooding out to greet the welcome guests. Even today, days before Christmas, at each hour some maid hurried in search for the master and mistress of the estate to announce the arrival of another lord and lady. The entire household staff was in a state of frenzy; Mrs. Darcy, with years of party-planning and guests-hosting guiding her in well-won wisdom, had taken the proactive action of hiring extra staff to strengthen their ranks. The guest list became checked as guest after guest flooded in.

Despite the constant stream of guests all left to her to entertain, Mrs. Darcy felt no great inclination to give in to fear and panic. Instead, steady and calm, she arranged her schedule and found time in which to spend time with her especially favored guests. Her parents, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, arrived in the earliest days. Mr. Bennet was in frail health, from old age and frequent heart problems (Mr. and Mrs. Darcy attributed the cause of to Mrs. Bennet—one could only live with her for so long before circulatory problems became a definite side-effect). Mrs. Bennet set a great fuss amongst the servants, calling, "Lizzie! Lizzie! How am I to have your father transported to a proper room when no such room has been arranged! Your staff see it fit to put him in the west wing, away from the warmth of the center of the mansion—he will freeze in bed, if anyone cares!" To which Mr. Bennet only smiled and held Mrs. Darcy's hand and said, "It's good to see you, Lizzie."

Lizzie only smiled; her parents now lived in the range of eighty years or more, and her mother's panicked frenzy led her daughters to believe she was experiencing moments of delirious dementia—Mr. Bennet had his regular room in the warmest part of the house, but Mrs. Bennet, whether voluntarily or not, forgot about that well-known fact completely in favor of letting her complaint be well-known.

After her parents came along next was Georgiana with her own husband; Darcy was much pleased to see his sister well and arrived for the Christmas holiday. He expressed pleasure as well when soon arrived Jane and her darling Bingley; kisses and embraces were exchanged between sisters and friends. "The children will be along shortly, dear Lizzie," Jane said. She spoke of them with such pride—both her daughters and her sons had married well, and she led the Bennet sister pack as far as grandchildren went—twelve in all. Lizzie felt no competition at all from this—she loved all her nieces and nephews and their offspring—all beautiful, shy, modest people, taking much from Jane and Bingley.

Lizzie had her own grandchildren, of course. She'd two sons and two daughters—Bennet and George, in honor of her father and Georgiana (and not of any late brother-in-law who passed away in the islands some years ago, to neither Darcy's regret, but relief)—and Lottie, after Charlotte, and Rachel, after Aunt Gardiner, who was one of the reasons they'd met up at this estate so many decades before. Three of the children lived near the estate, and had come in straight after Jane in a big caravan together. Imagine the joy on Lizzie's face when all those carriages came rolling up and all her delights came pouring out to lavish affection and kind words upon her and Darcy. Only Bennet, their oldest and most serious and adventurous son, took some time. He'd gone to live in America, in the great city of New York ("It has nothing on our York, that's for sure. It's folly for him to think otherwise," said Mrs. Bennet, to no one in particular), but was now returning for a some months-long stay with his parents. Lizzie looked forward to his return most of all.

His last letter home marked the day of his arrival at London port as the twenty-second of December. That being today, Lizzie and her husband kept a pointed look at the carriages passing by, each moment hoping that it contained their eldest born. Alas, every time a carriage's occupants were announced, Bennet Darcy was not among those named.

Lizzie sat in the sitting room with three of her sisters—Jane, Mary, and Kitty. Mary was an old spinster whose pianoforte skills were renown and requested all over the county. She'd been taken under the wing of the late Ms. de Bourgh, of all people, after the Darcy marriage. Ms. de Bourgh, however the marriage vexed her nerves, saw it her duty to better Lizzie's side of the family so that they would measure up as relatives to the important Darcies. Going down the line, Jane was married, Lizzie had no intention of becoming bettered in any form of arts whatsoever, left her next with Mary. Taken under her wing and privately tutored, Mary's piano skills excelled; Ms. de Bourgh, with her riches and extensive social circles, traveled all over England with Mary; Georgiana was vastly relieved that someone else had taken her place under her aunt's watchful eye. This remained so until Ms. de Bourgh's death; Mary was left plenty of money, but she decided to keep house with her parents instead of continuing her long, hard career.

Kitty had married a merchant in London who'd been traveling through their small town to sell his merchandise in the shops. Mrs. Bennet made the best of this match as well, pleased enough with his income, not pleased enough with what little time she got to spend with Kitty.

Lydia was not there. She lived in the Caribbean islands were her dead husband had been stationed. While her sisters still wrote her proficiently, her own correspondence across the Atlantic had decreased in quantity down to approximately two letters a year.

Still, sufficient and charming times they had just the four of them; for the good fortune of all, Mrs. Bennet had taken to her room for the morning, complaining of a headache. "These draughts, and this ill weather! How the wind blows on your estate, Lizzie! Perhaps some saplings could aid you in keeping your estate in proper guest-keeping position!" They spent the whole of the morning thus sewing on various little personal Christmas gifts for all their grandchildren. All their children and their spouses' presents were wrapped up in paper and set in the drawing room. The new trend of having a fir tree with candles upon it had taken a fashionable hold on Pemberley; no fewer than six trees could be counted across the entirety of the large house. These added a pleasant aroma of pine and warmth to the house.

"There. That's the last one." Lizzie smiled as she neatly folded the doll's dress. This was for Florence, who showed an explicit passion for dolls and their lives. She treated them as tiny human beings; for her to receive perfect smaller versions of her own dresses would make her Christmas.

"It's beautiful, Lizzie." Jane smiled from across their little circle. She wore little reading glasses down at the end of her nose. Her hands shook with an arthritic tendency; it took her longer to sew things now.

"I am well enough pleased with it," Lizzie said.

The clock struck just as a knock sounded on the parlor door. In came in the master of the estate. Darcy now had a head full of silver locks, with glasses constantly on his face, and a walking cane. He gave a slow bow to each lady in turn. "Good morning, Jane, Mary, Catherine." He smiled back at them; it had taken some time for their warm affections and good attributes to come to the surface, but come they had, and now Darcy regarded his sisters-in-law with some affection as well. He turned to his wife; "I've come for you, Lizzie. It is time."

"Indeed it is. Let me have Greta fetch my gloves and furs." Lizzie stood as her husband took her hand to draw her up.

"Wherever are you going, Lizzie? Is someone arrived?" Jane wondered.

"No. Fitzwilliam and I have planned a walk along the grounds with the grandchildren. We should be back before noon, so dinner needn't wait on us." The maid arrived with Lizzie's things, and once suitably dressed for the chilly weather, the Darcies alighted out onto the grounds, where a most singular crowd awaited them, composed completely of their children's children, nine in all.

Lizzie was immediately pounced upon by two young granddaughters, Florence and Rose. They clasped each a hand with such pride and affection, excited to be the ones to flank her. Baxter, Florin, and Hugh all kissed her cheek and bid her good morning. Simon, the youngest, had already gained a position atop his grandfather's broad shoulders. He'd taken up the top hat from his silver hair and wore it on his small child's head; it slipped precariously, causing his sister Nannie to straighten it. The twins, Will and Winnie, wore pink cheeks; no doubt they'd been caught in some kind of snowball fight before their grandparents had descended upon the scene. Winnie especially wore a mischievous gleam in her eye; she knew as a young lady of thirteen that she should have her place as quietly and demurely awaiting her grandparents' arrival, not friveling the minutes away in childish rampart with her brother.

"Let us begin; the sun is out today, but I feel it'll only get colder the longer the day goes on," Darcy urged.

The walking party set forth from the front steps, down the long drive towards the road cut along the grand park. The tall pine trees they _did_ have to provide a shelter against the bone-chilling country winds added a wonderfully jolly scent to the air as they traversed. Their boots, despite their great thickness, could not be counted upon to be able to cut good paths across the deep snow leading along to the gardens further east and west of the house, so they kept a good path on the shoveled road. Usually when the grandchildren visited the exciting estate of Pemberley, they clambered outside to climb the trees in the woods, or skate or swim, given the correct weather to do either, in the deep pond past the woods. This thick, cold, unending winter provided them no such convenience, as any expedition out past the road was time-consuming and dangerous.

These were beautiful, rare moments in this sort of weather. Sleigh bells on carriages being pulled around the park rang in the air. Candles were lit in every window of the grand old house. Christmas red ribbons and holly were all to be seen. A magic in the air warmed every heart, from dear old Darcy, now rendered an affectionate grandfather, and glad to be, to the youngest Simon, with his top hat sitting like a rocking horse on his head.

"Do you awfully like walks about the estate, Grandmama?" Rose asked Lizzie.

Lizzie had pink cherries on her cheeks. She took a long moment to take in the white-crusted world around her, with these nine children scampering under her ankles with giggles and whispers. She said, "That I do, Rose."

A few moments passed; the elder children—Baxter, Hugh, Florin, Will, Winnie, and Nannie—ended up hurrying ahead, the boys caught up in a snowball fight, the girls keeping their hands solidly warm in their fur mufflers in the freezing weather, but watching the boys fight with as much attention and delight as they would a ballroom dance. This left Lizzie with Rose and Florence at each hand, and Darcy beside her with Simon. He said in a quiet voice, "This reminds me of a time long past, Mrs. Darcy."

He caught the twinkle in her eye she'd aimed at him. "Pray tell of this past time, Mr. Darcy."

"It was during such a time as this—it wasn't winter or snowing or so crowded with guests—but it was of a time of I giving you and your aunt and uncle Gardiner a tour of the grounds of Pemberley."

Lizzie smiled. "That was some years ago."

"Twas, twas. Little did either of us know that at some point in the distant future, we would be walking those same grounds, but with a brood of some nine children."

" _Grand_ children, Mr. Darcy." Still, Lizzie tilted her chin up, despite the white sun, and smiled as she caught sight of the five grandchildren up ahead, acting perhaps some years younger than they should've been; still, she disregarded a reprimand; after all, it was Christmas. "Which of us could've imagined such a future? Surely not I." She met Darcy's eye and saw something surprising in his expression. "What is it?"

"I did. I could've hoped." He gave her a little rueful smile. She blushed.

They'd gone around the third bend which was connected to the main road that ran north to the house when the sound of more sleigh bells came twinkling along. The group took to the safe side of the road as the carriage came pulled to a stop alongside them. Steam burst from the horses' noses; they stamped their feet as a door opened and a familiar person descended from the carriage.

"Uncle Bennet!" The cries of the children echoed over the park as the poor man who'd barely found his legs on land lost them to the embraces of his nieces and nephews. Somehow he extracted himself from their arms to put himself before his pleased parents.

"Well, what a surprise! Thank you for sending the advance notice, or you'd have given your mother or me a heart attack!" Darcy said, pleased as punch that Bennet had arrived.

"It's a mercy to see such welcome faces!" Bennet hugged each niece and nephew in turn before he kissed and embraced his mother. "Merry Christmas, Mother!"

"Merry Christmas, Bennet." Lizzie smiled. Suddenly the scent of pine was sharper, the snow prettier, the world lighter. It was indeed a Merry Christmas, as the carriage pulled ahead, leaving Bennet with his family. The walking party continued forward at a leisurely, luxurious pace. 'Most everyone was home for Christmas. Lizzie felt the tiny hands clasping hers hold tighter, and she shared a smile with Darcy—a smile of complete and utter contentment.

 **Thanks for reading! Review?**


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